fallen
by dee-thequeenbee
Summary: Hell is empty, the devils are here, said Shakespeare. And they are. They influence mankind every day, and usually, where there's a devil, there's also an angel trying to right the chaos. But can a fallen angel fall in love?
1. I

The air stinks.

Probably, most people would find this smell pleasant, but it makes Regina want to vomit. It's the flowers, she decides, the candid perfume of violets and lilacs. She slams the car's door close and walks towards the school, the smell stronger at every step. Now she can feel… clouds. The scent of clouds in a fresh mornings. Honey. And… trees. Pines, she decides. Like a forest.

This is going to be a long day.

Of fucking course, they have already found her. Those idiotic, _stupid_ philanthropists, always meddling in her businesses. She wonders whom is it that they've sent today. If it's Gabriel again – that insufferable girl that goes by Mary Margaret on Earth – she's going to flip. She can't bear another school year with her, oh, she is going to make her explode in a mess of feathered wings at some point.

Her phone rings just as she's approaching the administrative office, and she answers without looking at the ID.

"Yes?"

" _Regina, dear, are you at the school already?_ "

"Yes, Mother," she sighs. "Just got here."

" _Oh, so you noticed, I suppose?_ "

"That they've sent one of them again? Hard to miss."

" _I'm sorry, darling, your sister just told me they were already coming. But of course, we should have expected it. It's completely normal, right? So, who is it? Gabriel? Michael?_ "

"I don't know yet," Regina says, "but I hope they're not too powerful. I really want a smooth year, you know. And Michael can, in all honesty, kiss my ass, because his perfect chiseled chin won't save him."

" _I know,_ " her mother answers. " _Have a good day, dear, don't be late tonight_."

"Bye, Mother," she only says, and hangs up.

A really long day.

.:.

"Oh, Mr Locksley, you are a godsend!" Mrs Smith tells him, taking the papers from his hands. "I really couldn't find them and they were right here!"

"I do what I can, Mrs Smith," he says, flashing her a smile.

"Oh, please, call me Johanna," she chirps. "So, here's your schedule for the week, it's still temporary, but it should stay the same."

"Thank you," he answers, taking it. "It looks fine to me."

Johanna smiles, and she turns, muttering something like _Wait, let me find the lists of the students_.

In that moment, a wave of perfume hits his nostrils, and he widens his eyes. _She's here_.

She tastes like roses, above all. Roses in their full bloom, right before they start to rotten. Then, he feels the lust. _Luxuria_ , in latin, it's one of the seven sins. Not many of _them_ smell like it, but the ones who do… oh. It must be one of the most powerful, he knows it. He feels the sea, in her scent – the humans say it's the smell of a woman after she's made love. Then, a perfume – this one is of human facture, it could be Chanel or something amongst the lines of it.

And… an aftertaste of ash and fire. Of course.

The door slams open. Robin turns, and… she's beautiful.  
Plus, she's looking at him with _murder_ in her eyes.

"Arariel," she hisses.

"Astaroth," he bows his head. "It's nice to meet you, at last."

Mrs Smith – Johanna – turns back, and thankfully she has missed the exchange. "Ah, Miss Mills," she smiles at the woman. "May I introduce you to Mr Locksley? The new Lit teacher. This is Regina Mills," she says, "she teaches Physics."

Regina looks at him, narrowing her eyes. She offers him her hand, shakes it. "And will _Paradise Lost_ be in the program this year, Mr Locksley?"

"Oh, I haven't thought of it, milady," he smiles, mocking her. "You gave me a nice idea."

"I'm sure of it," she says. "It was wonderful meeting you, but alas, I need to go and find my class."

"See you later," he can't resist, and winks at her. She shakes her head, bids goodbye to Johanna, and exits. Robin knows this was only to meet him – to find out who he was – and he can't say he's displeased. She's powerful, maybe more than he is, but it will be a nice challenge.

If she's here to make chaos, he'll make sure she doesn't.

.:.

 _Jerk_ , Regina thinks, _jerk and insufferable idiot_. Her first class is in another building, so she fastens her pace, rage filling her heart. She'd give anything, right now, to just widen her wings and go away. She should tell Mother about the identity of her rival, she should start finding troubled souls in the school, but her thoughts are completely occupied by that moron.

She teaches here since years, and her competition has always been… tolerable. Apart from Gabriel – Mary Margaret – the others have been weak, so she's been free to act. She's even been a little mellow, at times, when she was tired. It's just, eternity is a very long time when you're alone.

And she's done with love, with all that _bullshit_ , she's done with everything that isn't the despair of human souls.

She is good at her job. She overcame all the pain from her past, but of course they continue to send her a new pain in the ass every year. _It's part of our suffering_ , Lucifer has told her once.

Regina opens the door of her new classroom – a bunch of fifteen-year-olds, bored and already so _done_ with this shit. That, she can understand.

"Alright, people," she says, and there's absolute silence in an instant. May the malign powers be blessed. "I want discipline here, you'll better learn this from day one. Discipline, punctuality, and don't ever forget, you're not here to have fun. You're here to suffer your way through high school, so don't think you will enjoy a single moment. Open your books, we will start immediately."

Because those who don't have that much power, they create disasters and go around the world to create new wars and such.

She is more cruel. She will make these kids' lives a _living hell_.

.:.

He brings her coffee.

It's quite easy to find her office, even if it's lost somewhere in the Science Department. He knocks, hearing that voice saying "Come in," and pushes the door. When she sees him, her expression changes from neutral to disgusted.

"I should have guessed it was you, from the smell."

"Oh?" he smiles, closing the door behind him. "And what do I smell like?"

"Forest, soap and everything pure and clean," she snorts. "What do you want, Arariel?"

"I think we should stick to regular names here. It's Robin," he says, and goes to sit in front of her, slides her the coffee. "Here you go. Black as night, and hot as hell."

"Fuck you." Regina sips her coffee, then places it on her desk. "You have no idea of what hell is like."

"Are you always _this_ angry?" he asks, curious, tilting his head.

" _Its fire is hidden, while its taste is manifest, but its smoke becomes visible in the end_ ," she quotes. "So, yes. You wouldn't like to know how much, trust me."

"Maybe not," he offers. "Are you planning a lot of trouble for this year, milady?"

"Spare me the courtesies, I'd never tell you my plans."

Robin looks at her, paying attention, but he sees… well, the usual rage in a devil's soul. And… maybe something else. It takes some time, to read them, and since the Deal of Peace he hasn't seen much of his competition. He was in another division, lately, not on Earth, and apparently she's more equipped to work here than he is. He'll have to report, later this evening, and he should find something to say. But he knows he won't say much.

"I'll just have to figure your plans out by myself then," he smiles at her, and lifts up from his chair. "See you around, Regina."

He hears her sigh as he closes the door.

This is going to be an interesting school year. A very interesting one.


	2. II

_A/N: Hi there! I found some time to kick out a new chapter of this story, go me ;) oh, and I got a review asking how I found the names for R &R's non-human forms... Well, I didn't - they're actual names of angels and devils, as every name in this story, they've been used by various artists through the years (for example there's Mephistopheles, the devil and co-protagonist of Doctor Faustus.) Here, they just... borrowed human forms, I guess. I hope it's clear now? if it isn't, drop me a word ;) enjoy! _

* * *

Dinner with Mother is hell. Literally.

Cora has booked in one of those super chic clubs, where waiters wear gloves and wine flows easily. It's always been their _modus operandi_ , really, and with all of their money, who could blame them? To be ruthless is to give your money a boost, they say. Tonight, however, there is only Zelena, her husband, Cora and her business partner Mr Gold. And Regina already knows, she's going to be questioned all evening.

So _delightful_ , to live her life.

At least, those stupid humans can hope to have a rapid, painless death to end their misery. And yes, there she is, stuck until the Judgment Day – as if her judgment was a surprise, after all.

"You're late," Cora welcomes her, shaking her head at Regina's _Sorry, Mother, I got caught up in the traffic_. Why does she even bother?

"So, Regina, tell us," Zelena inquires, taking a sip of wine. "How's the new year going?"

"Couldn't be better," she answers. Sits next to her, tucking her hair behind her ear. "They sent the dearest Arariel to bother me, this time. I wonder why they don't give up already."

"Be sure you'll have something… _consistent_ … to present to the Council, dear," Mr Gold intervenes. She meets his eyes for a moment – that glint, the ancient flames perpetually burning, the power he has – they always make her speechless.

"I'll take care of that," she hisses. "Have I ever disappointed you?"

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she regrets saying them.

"I recall a particular disaster with that darling Gabriel, don't you?" Zelena smiles. "But you know better now, sis, right?"

"As I was telling Cora, we chose well, with you," Gold smirks at her. How _nice_ of him, reminding her that he is the reason she is here now, deprived of her birth right.

"Oh, give Regina some respite," Greg, Zelena's husband, speaks up. "She did a great job with that psychotic girl, some time ago." He sips on his champagne, slowly. She remembers how he mentioned, once, how that particular brand reminded him of the effusions from his home, the Underworld.

" _Ten_ years ago," Cora pinpoints, annoyed. "Since then, nothing worth of mentioning."

"Thanks, Mother," Regina rolls her eyes, "you will never admit that I have one of the hardest jobs, but I'm used to it, don't worry."

As Cora starts complaining about her ungratefulness and childish attitude – despite being, in fact, a younger creature than she is – Regina pours herself more wine. It does seem unfair, to be damned for eternity, when her damnation is already here.

.:.

When Robin sees her again, she has an hickey on her neck, and she looks tired.

"Good morning, sunshine," he greets, with a wide smile. They're in the teachers' room, ready to start a new day, he has already his books under his arm.

She turns in a single move, startled. "You."

"Me," he replies, smiling. "How are you today?"

"Are you always _this_ obnoxious?"

"I prefer to call it good manners, but obnoxious sounds fine," he says, not missing a beat. "Luckily, I have your same students after your class, so I can cheer them up."

"I'm not in the mood today, Locksley," she murmurs. "Go and save the world, leave me be."

He raises his eyebrows, but doesn't push. He's good, after all – programmed to be kind, even with one of his sworn enemies. "Okay then," he answers. "See you, milady."

He really doesn't know why the walk towards his class seems to be lonely, but it does. And it definitely doesn't have to do with her. It's just, she left an aftertaste of something in his heart – her disgust, maybe, her annoyance.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," he announces, pushing the door open. "Now if you please, take your books and we'll begin."

.:.

She's jumpy.

She shouldn't be – even if she wants to ignore why, she knows all too well that it's _him_. Him and his stupid angelic face, his eyes blue like the paradise she's lost. His stupid, stupid smile. Greg told her, at dinner, that Arariel isn't so known between her kind, he's not considered a threat, so she doesn't get why she's so bothered by his presence. It's just, he has brushed her shoulder, and the flames in her veins have swirled like quicksilver, her wings have quivered, just beneath her skin.

But she's jumpy all day, and it's not like her at all.

Her muscles still hurt from yesterday. She had an encounter with a businessman, she has fucked him thoroughly, had his lips sucking on her neck and him pounding into her, but it's all worth it. She is _this_ close to ruin his marriage, and then she'll just disappear from his life. Well, _their_ life. His wife is better in bed, not that he knows. For now.

So she delivers a lecture about levers and mechanics, has the student fill up a get-to-know-them test to make sure they're not too behind with the program.

As if she cares.

As if she isn't thinking about what Zelena told her, at the dinner.

 _You look different, sis. It's a shame, really. This life suits you – it has been created for you, and I'd hate for you to throw it away just because you're bored_.

"Miss Mills?"

It's him, that student she has noticed last week. His name's Henry, and he already shows that proclivity for the literary studies that's going to get him in trouble with her classes. He has neared her desk, and talks lowly, watching the floor.

"Yes?"

"I wondered if I could get a pass for this afternoon's class. You see, we have an emergency meeting for the school newspaper and…"

"And who, pray tell, has summoned this meeting?"

Henry lifts his eyes for a second and she almost smirks, glad to notice her powers haven't given her up yet.

"Uhm, Mr Hopper and Mr Locksley."

Regina has to fight against her urge to roll her eyes. Him again. Unbelievable. _Will it always be like this? That stupid angel messing with my life until hell do us part?_

"I don't think you will go, darling," she says, sweetly. "You see, there's a test, this afternoon. I'm afraid I can't let you wander the halls while your colleagues sweat over a paper, right?"

Henry doesn't answer, but looks at her. He's not angry, he's just… disappointed. And somehow, this makes her even more furious.

.

"You," she hisses. "We need to talk."

She takes Robin by his sleeve and pulls him around the corner, almost making him hit the nearest locker. She can feel her fury filter through her words, her throat burning.

"What can I do for you, love?"

Oh she could just slap him.

"For starters, don't call me love," she tells him, sharp. "And don't think I don't see what you're doing, smartass."

"Why?" he widens his eyes, and again, his stupid smile lightens up his expression. She can't tell if he's an idiot or if he's really a jerk. "What am I doing?"

"You are _annoying_ me," she says, slowly. "On purpose. That kid, Henry, came to me blabbering about a school newspaper, as if you didn't know that you booked the meeting during my hours. Now, I know you think you're funny… or extremely clever…"

"I like to think I'm both," he answers, flashing her his dimples.

"Shut up," she says. "Shut _up_. I'm trying to do my job, and if you think it's easy, you're sorely mistaken."

She nears his body, so that they only have a breath of space between them. "Because if _you_ fail, you moron, then your precious gods will just pat your head and tell you _Oh, it's okay, you'll do better next time_. If _I_ fail, however…" she curls her hand around his neck, speaks near to his lips. "… let's just say the punishment would be something you could never imagine. And it will _be your fault_."

She leaves his skin, and sends him one last angry glance before walking away.

.:.

 _A third of the angels fell from the sky, like whimsical pieces of the gods' wrath. For it is useless to debate whether there's a god or more, but it is heart-wrenching to see how so many betrayed the Word. First fell Lucifer, who carries the light of the morning. Belzebub was his second in command and so was Pluto, the disowned. Those who know of their eternal fight are wise, for they also know how to stay away.  
Then it was Mephistopheles, lured with promises of fire and knowledge. _

_It is told that Abbadon the Heartless dived into the void, no regrets whatsoever, and asked for Belzebub's help to trick a young angel to go with them. So the two of them attracted Astaroth to the arranged place – they pulled and pulled until Astaroth was filled with rage against the unforgiving gods, and so they draw her into the fall with them. She had an ounce of regret, for she ripped a cloud to stop her fall, but couldn't fight against the magnetic force of the inferno._

 _More followed. Regretful or not, the gods won't forgive the traitors, and their faith is with those who haven't fallen. So they gave the remaining angels a gift and a curse – to watch over humans, to oppose the forces of evil. The eternal struggle, born from a morning star, will maybe die with a human savior to end the war._

.

Robin closes the book, dumbstruck. He already knew something about the Fallen Angels – traitors, the Book of the Word calls them. Those who have become devils, who have gone to join Satan and Lucifer, those who have betrayed the gods. He knew the story, of course, but when he met Astaroth – he didn't realize it was truly _her_.

It was her, the angel they've tricked into betrayal, whom they've condemned to an eternity of misery.

He takes a sip of tea, his finger brushing the cover of the book. He's at home, finally bare of that human disguise they all use to mingle with mankind. His wings can breathe, now, he's splayed them in an amazing sensation of freedom.

Still, his heart his heavy, for he has just discovered an horrifying truth. He's always assumed Regina had chosen her path, that her viciousness was the root of her evils.

And the worst is, he can never tell her he's sorry.


	3. III

_A/N: fourth entry for the OQ prompt party, Thursday._  
 _36\. Robin spills a drink on Regina._  
 _119\. A walk in the woods/on the beach._

 _I want to thank everyone who has left those mind-blowing reviews! You guys rock! I love how excited you are and it is a great help.  
Oh and I wanted to say, if anyone has tumblr, and you go on my dash, I have tagged several things with #aboutfallen, they're like pics or quotes that fit the story. Now here's the chapter, I hope you'll like it: it has a fave scene of mine ;)_

* * *

On Monday, she can't find in herself to be upset about the steaming mug awaiting on her desk. However, he avoids her, just as she thought he would. Why would he want to befriend one of her kind, after all?

She is grateful for the space he gives her, she is. That she keeps repeating in her mind, replaying it like a broken record. She has never treated him with kindness, not once, so she guesses he's finally understood her cue and decided to leave her to mess with the universe in peace.

On Wednesday, Regina slowly climbs off her car and starts going towards her office. She has free hours, today, one of her classes is in a school trip to the nearest museum, so she will use her hours wisely and actually go through her paperwork. Yes. Instead of focusing on what Mother wants – what Lucifer wants, to be honest – instead of thinking about her next sins.

The halls are unusually quiet, less people around, so she manages to walk tiredly without a single soul stopping her with useless questions. One step and then another, and she is so _tired_. Of everything. Her sister got it right, at their last dinner. This life doesn't suit her anymore, perhaps. Right now, she just wants to go flying for a while, because there is going to be a storm soon, and that is the best moment to fly. Yes, she decides, she will. As soon as the school's over today, she'll put on a swimsuit and she'll go to swim in the ocean, and then when she'll be far away from humanity she will splay her wings.

Her mind is still lulling the thought, lost in a pleasant fantasy, when a lot of things happen at once. First, she realizes she's just walked past her office. Second, she collides with a taller, larger body. Third, a whiff of sun and lavender reaches her nostrils. And fourth, a hot, incredibly scorching pain on her skin.

"What the _hell_?" she hisses, taking a step back from the _moron_ who's just spilled the entire content of a mug on her ivory blouse.

"Regina?"

Oh fuck. Of course.

It's _him_. Annoying and idiotic enough not to look where he's going, of course it's him. She lifts her head, eyes narrowing. "Good morning to you too," she says, sarcastic. "You know that's _not_ what people mean when they say _let's get a coffee together_ , right?"

"Shit, Regina, I'm so sorry," he tells her, those blue eyes so full of shame that she has to look away. She bobs her head down to look at her shirt, now ruined.

"What on earth were you doing with that here, by the way?" she asks, ignoring his apologies. "Your office is on the other side of the school. Don't they teach you how to read a map, in _How to Be an Angel 101_?"

He bites his lower lip. "I was bringing it to you, actually," he tells her. _Oh_.  
"I – I guess I needed an excuse to talk…"

"I am done talking, at the moment," she cuts. "So, thank you so much for the coffee, and for the two hundred dollars you've just painted with coffee, but – " she shakes her head, still avoiding his gaze, "I have work to do. See you."

.:.

Robin leaves her be for the day. He pours his soul (well, the equivalent for angels) into making the world a better place. Spends some time in the library, during his free hours, replaces books and more books into their rightful shelves, and helps one of his students with homework.

It's Physics, he realizes. Regina has really outdone herself, in her efforts to be as pesky at possible with the kids. The student – Roland, he's called, curly hair and a wide smile despite his difficulties with homework – is practically pining on that sheet of paper since one hour, he tells him.

"It's just too hard, sir," he says, chewing the top of his pencil. "Miss Mills said she's going to explain us everything, but only after we're done with homework."

"What?" Robin rises his eyebrows, in disbelief. "Oh, okay… I guess I should have expected it," he mutters. "Look, I'll try to tell you how it works. But it's a secret, okay?"

Roland nods eagerly, and Robin thinks that two can play this game. From now on, he will search for every single bad action of Regina's and he will turn it into a smile, or a grateful look. Watch me now, he thinks, as he slides Roland's book closer and takes one of his still-not-chewed pencils.

When he's done going through his homework, Roland thanks him, seeming in higher spirits, so Robin exits the library, takes the long corridor and walks beyond her office. He resists the temptation of going in and ask for explanations. Isn't it what his kind does best? Resisting temptations? And as for explanations… she's a devil. She doesn't owe him explanations, not when he knows exactly why she's doing this.

But anyone can be saved, he muses. Even though the gods say that no, the fallen ones are unforgivable, he believes they can be saved. The Word says redemption is a possibility for everyone. And he doesn't think it's just about humans either.

.:.

The evening is, perhaps, her favorite time of the day. Since she's on Earth, evenings have been quiet and transitional to a new night. The wonderful fascination she has with stars and everything of the sky, with science and knowledge, it has only fueled during the years, as mankind discovers more and more, Astaroth thrives. Her friend Mephistopheles has always understood her.

She has fallen, as Regina did, because they promised her endless knowledge, and told her that heaven was not the answer. Told her the real world was down there, were the angels, they said, could live with men and mingle, and could steal from them their wit, their fires and their ideas.

They've both been fooled, Regina thinks, as she laces her black bikini on her back. At least, Mephistopheles went in willingly. At least they didn't push her, she tells herself, at least she choose to go. Maybe she's happy.  
She hasn't seen her in a very long time, and she should rectify that.

Regina dresses herself and exits in the dusk, a shiver of excitement making her fingers quiver. This is such a perfect evening to fly. She starts the engine of the car and takes the road, down to the outskirts of town, and again ahead, to the sea. She pulls over just at the end of the street. There is a beach – she will stroll down there and down the jetty, leave her clothes there and finally splash into deep water.

Perfect.

A little _less_ perfect, when she spots the man currently sitting on the rocks.

Her groan is loud, and he immediately turns. "Oh heavens, you again?" he groans in response. It looks like he's annoyed. Quite weird: he's always been the perfect gentleman, and this tone doesn't fare well with his usual demeanor.

"Well, sorry," she says, a little thrown back. Then, murmurs vehemently, "I can always find another beach to stroll on, never mind," even if she knows all too well this is the only one within the range of miles. Just then her gaze falls on what is surrounding him – a booklet, and a notebook, with a small box of pencils. "What are you even doing here?"

He watches her for a long moment, then answers. "Drawing. Writing. Stuff."

"O-kay," she lets out in two syllables. Her hands raise as she is surrendering. "Don't mind me, I'm just… I'll get going and leave you to your stuff."

Her hair wipes up with the wind – it's gotten angry, in the last minutes. She needs to hurry if she wants to catch the start of the storm. Her feet sink in the humid sand, and she draws a deep breath as she walks away from him.

"Regina," comes his voice – obviously. "Wait!"

She stops on her tracks, lets him the time to push his notebooks into a small backpack and join her. He plunges his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts. "Sorry for earlier, that was rude of me," he tells her. "Are you… alright?"

"Yes, don't worry," she waves her hand. She'd normally be much angrier with him, but the excitement about her activities is just making his idiocy fade. "Do you come… often on this beach? Doing stuff?"

"It's one of my favorite spots, actually," he confesses. "You?"

She shrugs, throws a side glance at him. Can she trust him? Flying is… not exactly _forbidden_ , but frowned upon, and if he reports to someone…

"I wanted to… watch the storm," she says after a while. "From the jetty."

He hums, as if he's thinking. "That sounds… very reasonable. And there's any particular reason you have your bikini on?"

Regina turns, stopping, faces him. "What?"

He doesn't answer, but draws up a hand and shifts her hair to the side, reveals the lace of her bra, knotted in a bow just behind her neck. She feels herself blush, as if she's been caught with her hands in the jam. "I, actually, wanted to swim a little," she says. Her ears are burning, her heart thumps as she spills the truth. "And… fly. Just for some time. They won't see me with the storm –"

"I know," he says, tranquil, and shrugs to her puzzled face. "Mind if I join you?"

She raises an eyebrow, as if she expects a trap in there somewhere.

"Regina, you're not the only one who breaks a little rule every now and then," he winks. "Come on. Shall we?"

She's still stunned, but nods, follows him dumbly. He walks towards the jetty, then stops when he reaches it, and places his backpack on the sand, protected by a pillar. He starts unbuttoning his shirt, and motions at her. "Are you coming or not?"

Regina shakes her head, tells him _Yes, of course_ , and reaches for her dress, pulls it up in one single motion. She's in her bikini before he's even off with his shirt, and she doesn't miss his eyes roam appreciatively on her body, but her gaze goes on the horizon. The clouds have gathered now, black and blue and violet, it really is the perfect storm. The sea is rippled, the air crisp on her skin. Robin reveals his boxers, and now _her_ eyes skim on his chest and toned muscles. He takes her dress from her hands, folds it and packs it in the backpack with his own clothes.

"Thanks," she murmurs.

He nods in acknowledgement, and turns, taking the few steps to climb up the jetty. They walk along it, feet resounding on the wooden tiles. She thinks that if someone was to see them, right now, they'd look like two deities themselves – gods of the sea, maybe, or merpeople, going back to where they belong.  
At some point – they may have reached half of their path – he takes her hand. Regina tries not to think much of it. They're not in public, it's not like he's kissing her under the mistletoe, but she curls her fingers around his hand anyway. It's warm, and it's… nice.

.:.

A devil in a black bikini is, quite possibly, the sexiest thing he's ever seen.

Regina's hair flies around with the wind, when they reach the end of the corridor on the sea, and she slips a hair tie out of her wrist to collect everything into a tidy ponytail. She watches the sea – he knows, if she were human she'd be shivering with cold, but doesn't mind in the slightest, apparently.

"Wanna go first?" she asks, motioning at the water.

"Ladies first," he offers.

She glances at him, and nods. It's weird – to be here with her, because she's still distrustful of him but she has trusted him enough to tell him what she was doing. As she turns towards the sea, Robin sees her tattoo for the first time. It's a star just under her shoulder blade, black. He wonders, but he stays silent. Regina looks back at him one last time, and then she jumps in head first. He watches her swim for a moment, then joins her in.

The water is cold – that was quite obvious – but pleasant, refreshing. He missed it. With some strokes, he almost reaches Regina – she's gotten far, and still swimming. It has started to rain, so little droplets splash on his face when he lifts it to search for his companion.

"Regina!" he calls. "Wait!" She stops, her wet hair sticking to her neck as she slowly turns. Floats next to him. "We're far enough, I think it's okay now."

She nods. "Now, it's your turn to go first," she says. "Show me that pretty angelic shape, come on."

He raises an eyebrow. So she's daring him. Interesting, he thinks. He submerges himself slowly, taking a deep breath before plunging down. Here it goes, he thinks. Freeing his wings is always wonderful, but doing so underwater is even more wonderful. He raises his hands, gives two rapid kicks with his feet, and breaks the surface of the water in a single movement. He splays his wings, the light of white and light blue sounds like home. Regina is still there, in the water, as he flaps them slowly above her, sea water cascading down with the water from the sky. She has a curious expression, one that he can't read. Longing? She's nostalgic? Disgusted?

Now he yells, over the winds, _Are you coming?_ and she nods back, giving him one last glance before going down. He waits, and waits, starts thinking she's drowned.

And then, a missile in the shape of a devil sprays out from the sea, she splays her wings too, suspended in front of him.

And she's breathtaking.

Black wings, veined of violet and red, her skin a perfect ensemble of dark veining too, her eyes ablaze, she is terrifying. She radiates power, she feels like roses and sea, like an avenging fury. Robin blinks a couple of times, stunned. She crosses her arms on her chest, her hair has lost its lace and swirls now free.

"Shall we fly, then?"

He has just the time to nod – she smirks, lifts her arms and gives a violent beat upwards.  
He can only follow. Right in the storm.


	4. IV

_A/N: first entry for the 2018 OQ prompt party. Monday._  
 _28\. regina self harming and robin noticing.  
(in a different way tho)_

 _thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed this fic. it means so much to me, and i hope not to disappoint you. enjoy!_

* * *

He gets caught up in his life.

Doesn't see Regina much, lately, and it's… weird, but understandable. She has other duties: and as long as she leaves the students alone, and doesn't cross the line of a normal-passing evil teacher, he's fine with it. But he observes – she looks tired, many times she comes to school with dark circles under her eyes, and her outfits get darker, sexier, harsher.

The clicking of her heels on the tiles is always like the thunders before a storm, has many of a student parting ways and sliding towards other corridors, has the crowd splitting to let her pass. He observes from far away, doesn't get involved. He does, though, try to brighten the world wherever she darkens it. He offers smiles, help, explains and clarifies, and lightens up the spirits and brings good where good is needed.

However, life goes on, and Halloween approaches.

Principal Hopper corners him, on a quiet morning, and explains everything about the annual party they're throwing – it's in the sports hall, and teachers are needed, to supervise on the students, and, would he mind also thinking of a costume? It's a simple party, really, just the usual music young people listen to, and maybe those tables of appropriate beverages and the like.

He says yes, obviously, and once catches himself asking himself if _she_ will be there, but he doesn't know, really. They haven't spoken since that day at the jetty, when they've flown together, and aside from some casual, polite _Good morning_ s, he doesn't actually talk to her.

He's had his fair share of things to think about. It's just, Christmas is coming, and his whole species is in a frenzy over it, as it always happens. Humans are, in general, more kind with one another, so that's the time for new year's resolutions and gifts and love. But they all seem to forget that there's Halloween first, and November is a month where the devils thrive. It's dark and gloomy – at least in this hemisphere, and makes it easy for depressing thoughts to slither on and envelop themselves in one's mind.

So he'll have to be even more attentive, and to push back with all he can, to oppose the malign powers.

.:.

She is _so_ screwed.

Her human form doesn't even begin to show how bad she feels about all of this. She's carried into herself this impending guilty feeling, and of course Mother will notice the moment she sees her. They'll all notice.

She has started to get brighter.

It's almost invisible, a small thing, really. But it's there. It's a little spot just beneath her tattoo, on her back. It's a little, imperceptible luminous pulsing point of light, which she can still cover with carefully constructed armors of clothing. Still, the most expert between the devils will know there's something wrong with her.

Late September has her pouring her nights above old books, dusty receptacles of ancient truth she keeps in her underground vault, now used as a library. She neglects her current projects – the couple she's just shy of separating forever, the girl who's getting more depressed each passing day, the young dad who constantly thinks about how wonderful it'd be to leave his newborn child and his wife.

And the more she neglects these projects, the more dangerous they become – the more chances they have to get to the other side, to be picked up by those fucking angels.

She does research on her small, bitty diamond-like piece of skin, a crack in her human shape, and she doesn't dare to turn and to free herself from her human prison. Zelena has warned her about it, once – they should change back to their normal shape, and often, because it's dangerous to remain a human for a long time. Just another thing she'll have to ask her sister when she sees her.

She gets close to calling Mephistopheles, once, but doesn't.

Her books can tell her everything she needs – she's certain of it. And she just has to solve this small hiccup in her plans before Samhain, and she'll be alright. She will.

She plays a mix-tape she's stolen once, from a pretty girl she was seeing, and continues her reading, only exits to go to school – doesn't pick up the calls of her kind, doesn't answer to anything.

But the books are silent, or they enjoy her worries.

.:.

The party is in full-swing, when he gets in. He's parked quite close – didn't know if he'd be in the mood of walking home, afterwards. There are kids swarming around, kids everywhere, has the school always had that many kids? Probably. The lights are already low, and he spots some of his students here and there, hidden in a corner, or dancing in the middle, or gathered in a noisy gaggle. Some recognize him, but he has just the time to say a quick hello before he has to rush towards his post.

And Regina's there.

His eyes widen before he can stop them.

She's dressed – as he is, of course, it was one of the details the principal has requested of the teachers – and that wouldn't be a problem, but… he's surprised. He has a second to gain his composure and close his fallen jaw, before she spots him.

The smile she throws him is positively wicked.

Her dress shines. It's not… scandalous, or inappropriate; after all, they work with a bunch of hormonal kids, and she's always attentive and careful, because even a _devil_ has its limits. He didn't expect her to wear this particular costume, that is.

She is beautiful, of course, and he has to bite back a chuckle as he walks to join her behind the table of refreshments. Because Regina – that Regina, the one he's valiantly fought against since months now, and flown together, Regina is dressed in white and light blue, has a knee-length dress which shines of a thousand little spots of light, and an impressive pair of fake feathered wings – and, of course, a halo of shimmering gold above her head.

Of course.

"Milady," he greets, formally, pretending not to notice her crossed arms and raised eyebrow. "Didn't expect to find you here, of all places."

"Hello, Arariel," she smiles, with that sultry voice he oh-so loathes, and her hands go down to smoother her dress. "So, do you like it?"

He couldn't tell her the truth – it would be impolite, and he's not unkind, no matter how she tries to provoke him. "Enchanting as always," he nods once, and of course she is. He clearly hasn't fooled her for a moment, because her brow raises even more.

"I imagine you'd find me enchanting," she answers, her smile becoming plastered as she nods, "you know, you don't have to pretend with me. It's okay to be a jerk every now and then. I reckon it would be exhausting to always restrain yourself from saying an unkind sentence."

"I was serious," he tells her, and reaches the table, looks at the various pitchers and bottles. "Fancy a drink?"

"You don't want to be seen drinking with me," she says. "Anyway, my shift here is almost over. I was just waiting for you to relieve me."

"All the more reason to have a drink before going," he motions to take the ladle from the punch bowl, and looks at her. "Unless you'd like something stronger?"

She shifts uncomfortably, and looks at the mixture. "I… that's fine. Whatever. We… don't really _feel_ the effects of alcohol. Unless you have a bottle of Devil's Springs in your pocket…"

He's surprised, but he nods, and puts down the ladle. "Well let's just say, you'll owe me a drink." His eyes shifts to where her hands are curled around the edge of the table, and notices something – that shouldn't be there, but is. Her white glove, shining of satin and lace, is marred of a black substance.

He doesn't think twice, and grabs her wrist – she lets out a startled yelp, and violently frees her hand from his grip.

"Not _here_!" she hisses. "Shit, _shit_ …"

She turns, her back to the room, and he quickly scans his surroundings. There's August, a fellow Lit teacher, and he calls to him, quickly asks if he can cover for a minute, and his hand is pressed on Regina's back, ushering her outside.

The door to the sports hall closes with a loud boom, and they're out.

.:.

He has seen it.

And she's quite sure he knows what it is. After all, he _has_ to know something of her kind – but maybe not how they got through the most painful process of a brutal transformation, when they've fallen from heaven – how they've been remolded and rebuilt and recreated to be demonic shapes of smoke and fire, how a viscous petroleum runs in their veins and how white, blue wings turned black and violet.

Robin follows her out, as she looks frantically around to check if there's someone, but they're all inside, she's alone with him.

"Show me," he demands, urgent, holds her wrist and turns it upwards. He slides down the glove before she can do anything, he's been so quick she almost didn't remember – how she could destroy him, if she wants. But he looks, he looks at her wrist – at the patch of black skin that may look like a bruise to a human eye. He must know it's just her real shape resurfacing. He knows it, because they flew together, and he has _seen_ her.

And in the middle, where she is bleeding, black comes out in fat drops. She has cut herself, yesterday – to _feel_ something, because her sister was right, because they _should_ change back every now and then, and for her pain is welcome and encouraged amongst her kind, everyone hates themselves more than anything…

"Regina, what is this?"

She snatches away her arm, but not before he could get a good look at it. "You weren't supposed to see it," she spits. "I…"

"Show me, please," he looks down to her, those fucking blue eyes open and pleading. "I want, I'd… I'd like to help you." Another second looking at his eyes, and she looks away.

Sighing, she lifts her arm again. "And what would you know of our biology, Arariel?" she asks, with a certain snarky tone, but also curiosity.

"I'm an avid learner, what can I say," he reasons, tilting her arm, gently. "Did you… do this to yourself?"

"Yes."

"And since when you haven't changed back?"

She looks down, almost ashamed. "Since that evening at the beach."

"Wow," he lets out, softly. "That's… a lot of time."

"Yes," she murmurs.

"I think you should do it… as soon as possible."

"I actually have to," she tells him, her eyes suddenly darting at the street, where a car is coming in their direction. "Tonight, it's Samhain, you know… a friend is picking me up and…"

"Okay, okay," Robin lifts a hand up. "I shouldn't know about any of this, so I'm stopping you right there."

"Right," she lifts an eyebrow, then looks at the car again. "Right… I should go, I'm sorry. I'll… see you soon, I hope."

She frees her hand from his – why was he still holding it in the first place? and rushes to the car, before her companion can possibly walk towards them and ask about him – but she has seen him holding her hand, for sure, and she has to have felt his smell of purity and goodwill – she walks away, leaves him there and slides up the glove, getting into the car.

"Hi, little one. Nice wings."

Regina sits on the backseat, and pulls out the bag she's left to her friend days ago, opens it, pulling out more appropriate clothes.

"Shut up and drive, Mal," she smiles, when Mephistopheles meets her eyes from the rear-view mirror. "I feel like an idiot."

"Well, I'd advise you to change," Mal says, the sounds muffled as she holds up a cigarette and lightens it. "Your mother would get a stroke if she saw you like this. Even though she, technically, can't."

Regina sends her a gaze, before starting to free herself from the costume. "So what's the plan for the night?"

Mal drives, as her wings come down, her white dress packed away while she unfolds a black leather skirt and jacket. "Same as usual," she answers, her bored voice sounds like she already dreads the event. "You know, goats, blood, a bit of flying, and new year's resolutions. Same as usual, little one."

Regina zips up her jacket, and looks down at her wrist. Maybe Lucifer will know what is happening to her. Then, a little needle of worry pushes in, when she thinks of that tiny, mysterious dot of light on her back – if she asks him, he'll surely notice that. She rubs her arm absentmindedly, willing the black drops to go back inside, willing this night to be over.

* * *

 _thoughts?_


	5. V

_A/N: hello there! i'm so sorry for the wait, but... life happened and i want to give these two only my best, so i waited quite a bit for the right moment to write. oh, and, if you have prompts or things you'd like to see, just tell me and i'll try and work them into the story. or questions, or stuff like that. and a huge thank you to miles - she inspired a certain quirk in this story, and you can thank her if i finally forced myself to sit down and get this done.  
_ _enjoy, and... leave me your thoughts? xX_

* * *

"Come in."

His voice is always the same. Since many years she's known him, and his voice has never lost that shadow of depth and danger.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Come, sit, my dear," he gestures for her to step inside, and Regina does just that, needlessly smoothens her pencil skirt with hands that are starting to sweat.

Lucifer is sitting at his desk, in his office, his hands steepled, with a smirk on his lips, his dark eyes shining. He's attractive – he has to be, Regina has lost count of how many lovers he's had in the millennia, all devils are attractive. But he is… more. She can see why humans are so prone to fall for him. She can resist his charm, most of the time, but not many humans are able to do so.

She walks inside, sitting awkwardly in front of him. Usually, she's not this nervous when she meets him. Of course, no one is ever completely at ease with him, but this is new – the sweating of her palms, her heart beating fast.

"I asked to see you, yes," he smiles kindly. "What's wrong, Astaroth? I have noticed your… strange behavior, at All Hollows. You know, I'd hate for this to be a… bad sign."

"I…" she gulps down, sinking into his eyes, but she doesn't see rage, she sees… concern. "Actually…"

"I understands there is a problem," he cuts. "Particularly when you skipped the transformation. Now I'm wondering… what is the problem?"

Regina drops her gaze down to the floor. Bites her lip, and she's just opened her mouth to answer when someone knocks on the door. She hears a meaningless exchange between him and his secretary – _Mr Samdi, your 2pm is here,_ and _Make them wait until I've finished here, thank you_ , – and he coughs lightly, encouraging her to go on.

"Right," she murmurs, finally looking at him. "I… have had trouble with my transformations. I had to… stop for a while, and then I found it difficult to change again."

He nods, humming. "Of course. Well, that could happen every now and then. Happened to Cora once, too, if I recall correctly. I am sure it's just a fluke," he raises an eyebrow, almost defying her to contradict him. "Isn't it?"

"Well," she starts, unsure on how to tell him the truth – because the truth must come out, one way or another, and it's better for the truth to come out at her terms rather than his. "I… actually, I've found a… a… problem, in my human shape. It's barely noticeable… but I did my research and I don't understand what's the matter."

"Interesting. Do you happen to remember when it first appeared? What's the nature of your problem?"

"I don't know when it happened," she says flatly. "I noticed it… about two months ago, but it could have been there before. It's on my back… it's a dot of light."

She's still looking at him, when she pronounces the last words, so she doesn't miss the flicker of rage in his eyes, just an instant, immediately replaced by his usual calm demeanor.

"Could you please show me, Astaroth? I think I may know what it is, but I need to see it."

Regina gulps down, suddenly nervous. "Show you… here?"

"You don't need to change of shape," he's quick to tell her. "Just… strip of your shirt, I only wish to see this dot of light. No one is going to disturb us."

She nods, gets up slowly from the chair, and keeps her eyes locked to his as she unbuttons her flimsy, see-through black shirt, then removes the shirt and is left in her bra. She gets closer, turns, and Lucifer raises from his seat to round the desk and look at her skin. She feels his fingers ghost around the dot, she can feel it pulsing now, as if it is somehow sensing all the darkness of Lucifer's soul.

"Interesting," he repeats. "Really… peculiar."

"So what is it?" she breathes out, her heart thumping – for the first time in weeks, she feels the urge to change. It's almost painful, but she knows she can't, not here, not now.

"A crack," he says, tranquil, as if it doesn't matter. "It can happen. It's rare, and different from Cora's problem, but you needn't worry, my dear. Have you met any… angel, recently?"

"Yes… they placed an angel to observe me, during my human job," she breathes out. "He… we haven't interacted much yet."

 _It's him. It's his fault_.

"I see." Lucifer goes to sit at his desk again, motions for her to dress. "Well, the only way to cure your problem is to change, at least twice a week. And Regina," he adds, "make sure you don't… encourage him. The angel. I'm not worried, at this stage, because I know you'll be able to get back on track. But they are tricky," he says, his eyes narrow. "He clearly thinks he can push you back into the light, but you know better, don't you? You know it's delusional to think redemption is possible."

"Yes, sir," she nods, a knot forming in her chest. "I'll… see to that. I'll make sure to report any problem."

"Good," he smiles, kinder now. "Now go. I'll see you at the next meeting."

"Thank you for your time," she murmurs, but he's already engrossed into reading the paperwork on his desk. She approaches the door, and opens and closes it carefully, with a smile to his secretary.

 _Damn it_.

.:.

She finds a rose on her desk.

The halls are already glowing with the first Christmas decoration – sparkling whites and golden spheres, all together bringing down her already tempestuous mood.

So it takes nothing – just a fucking yellow rose, with its complimentary card, to send her fuming. _How dare he_. Just as she discovered it's his fault if she's like this – a _weak_ , disgusting shell of what she used to be – and he sends her a stupid rose, as if she's some kind of medieval princess he needs to woo.

 _Milady,_ says the card _, you still owe me a drink, after that unfortunate Halloween party. I hope to see you… after hours, so we can talk a bit. If you want._

 _Your friend,_

 _Robin._

Regina takes the rose and the card, walks towards his office, oh so royally pissed, and enjoys the quiet of the empty halls. She hopes, hopes he's not there, so she can place a curse on him and everyone he holds dear, but she also hopes he's there so she can smack his stupid face with a fist.

"Regina," he welcomes her, and fuck, he smells good today. Looks good too, with a blue sweater that brings out his eyes. Actually no, he smells awful, because no one is supposed to smell this good, and she knows it's part of the magic of the angels, and it's bothering her to no end. He smiles, the idiot. "To what I owe the pleasure?"

"Get inside, you moron," she says, cold as ice.

"Did I do something wrong?" he tells her, widening his eyes, the shadow of a smirk on his lips – and no, he doesn't get to do this.

" _This_ is completely wrong," she slams the card against his chest, holding herself back from breaking his nose. "You have to stop being friendly with me, you have to stop getting close to me. It's wrong. You must stop doing that, because we just can't. It's _forbidden_. Is you stupid skull so thick you can't understand this simple rule?"

He seems dismayed, looks at her with concern, then curls his hand around her wrist. "Regina… did they threaten you in some way?"

"No," she shakes her head, trying to free her hand, but he just holds it so calmly and gently that she gives up. "I just… I shouldn't even be here, let alone telling you about my problems!"

"I don't believe you," he asserts, "please, tell me if they did something to you. I want to know, I want to help."

"You – can't… help," she chokes on her words, the rage from earlier dulled into angry tears, "you _are_ the problem. I shouldn't… be with you, talk to you."

"I can't just… stop seeing you!" he's frustrated, she can hear it from his voice, from the way his hand goes from holding her wrist to holding her fingers in an almost-too-tender way. "What happened?"

"I… I'm sorry," she frees her fingers, and a single tear escapes her careful façade. "Please, don't search for me anymore. I have to… solve this problem first, I'm sorry."

The door slams behind her and she leaves him there, too surprised to act. As she walks away, she can feel her heart getting stronger – darker, her hands curled into fists and her eyes narrowing. Electricity buzzes behind her, her wings quivering on her back, begging to be released.

 _Enough of this_.

.:.

Robin phones Mary Margaret, after work.

Gabriel is between the most powerful angels – if not the most powerful – and they're very good friends, not to mention she has worked with Regina, or… against, in the past. So she seems to be the most easy answer to his problems, but as the phone rings, he finds himself hoping she won't answer.

"Yes, hello?" her usual chirping tone, so kind, and Robin gulps, wondering why he's become unable to speak all of a sudden.

"Hi, Gabriel," he says. "It's me. Do you have time today? I really need to talk to you."

She tells him they can meet, of course, in one of those prissy cafés she favors, in lieu of his trusty favorite diner. They have scones and tea as he explains the problem, but surprisingly, Gabriel doesn't smile – she scowls, holding her tea cup with a haughty expression.

"You just had to mingle with their species, didn't you?" she says, disapprovingly. "Arariel, she… she's not to be trusted. I don't understand what you see in her. All the last reports are absolutely worrying, and if you don't care…"

"I'm just telling you there is something we don't know, Mary Margaret," he says patiently, his butter knife forgotten and suspended in the air. "Maybe even your precious reports don't tell us everything."

"So you want to act as a spy?" Gabriel asks, suddenly very interested. "You want to get close to her and learn her weaknesses?"

"I… that would be low, almost at their level," he mutters.

"We are at war with them, Arariel," she says, sipping on her tea. "I thought you'd know by now. That's an excellent idea, though. We must fight them with the weapons we have, and if you're in the position to get… closer to one of them, let's say, I want you to use this chance to discover more about them. It's awful, I know, and I'm actually ashamed we don't have more information about their species by now – we've been slacking in the intelligence department, and Michael won't listen to me when I mention it, he's still so partial for swords and flames, bless him…"

"Wait a minute," Robin interrupts her ramblings, "are you serious about this?"

"Absolutely," she says, her eyes candid. "Go, do, and report back at the next meeting. And… thank you, you've given me a lot to think about."

She gets up before he can even reply – tosses some coins on the table, more than enough to cover their meal and to leave a generous tip, and smiles at the waiter as she exits.

 _For fuck's sake_.

.:.

He avoids Regina for a week, long after the first snow has fallen. She's asked for space, and he's trying to be polite, trying to let her solve her mess before offering a peace deal once again.

Because he doesn't want to do what Gabriel has asked. He likes Regina. Even if she's a devil, even if she's impossible to be around sometimes, even though she frustrates him to no end. He finds himself wondering, what would have happened had she not fallen?

Would they be friends? Something more?

He knows how relationships work. He's had some, during the years – during all his reincarnations, he's found women and men and he's made their lives better, kept the secret for years, never had children – it's forbidden – and he knows some angels are together. Gabriel is with Michael, after all, and she's expecting a baby.

(It's funny, how it works. Angels together can have children, but only female reincarnations of both angels and devils can have children with humans. Maybe Regina has had children during the years. He'd like to ask her, someday.)

He knows how things work down here, but up there? No one tells.

Could they have been something more? He searches on his books, in the Book of the Word, because he's curious, not because he actually thinks he'll make any use of what he finds. Maybe it's only a way to understand Regina better – if this has to do with her sudden running away.

 _Word says that the Gods have forbidden many kinds of bonds, ever since the Traitors have fallen. They must suffer through their punishment and can be together, but there are limitations – a devil with a devil is a potential disaster waiting to happen, and a child of devils would be a horrible creature to be eliminated at once. It depends on the levels of power, and their place in the hierarchy.  
Some whispered of possible unions between angels and devils – this is undocumented, unprecedented, and the Gods didn't say what would happen, but it is told that it would be an abomination, and would result in unspeakable wrath. _

Well.

.:.

"Yes, I'd like to talk to her. Yes, I'll hold. Thank you." He waits for a moment, Vivaldi's _Four Seasons_ filling the speakers. _Winter_ , he thinks. Fitting for the season.

"Lucius, what a surprise," Mal says, he hears her relaxing on her chair. She's at work, but he never calls her there, so she must know it's pretty important. "What can I do for you, dear? You're not cancelling our date tonight, are you?"

"No, no," Lucifer answers, keeping his voice low and sultry. "We're still on, love. I was calling about an urgent issue, and I'm afraid it can't wait till tonight. Not to mention… I didn't want to stain our night together with work-related matters."

"Oh," Mal sighs, "you're wonderful, dear. So, what's happened?"

"Regina came by, earlier," he says. "I summoned her because she didn't change of shape during the Samhain meeting, as I am sure you remember. Now… as you call yourself her friend, and are between the people who know her the best…"

"Yes, I suppose I am. So?"

"So… we have a problem."


	6. VI

_A/N: thanks to all of you lovelies for your reviews and enthusiasm. without you i'd have abandoned this a long time ago! please enjoy the next chapter :) Xx_

* * *

Christmas is close, and her mood worsens every day.

The worst thing is, even with her somber mood, she has to play pretend and be all fake smiles and too polite for her standards, because humans may not notice when she uses her powers, but they surely notice her behavior. She has to be kind, and – especially with the students – she's expected to perform some sort of act where everyone loves each other, because _It's almost Christmas, Miss Mills_ , – and for some of them it's other religious festivities and yes, the problem is they're all so fucking happy.

She can't stand it.

Watches movies at home, drinking wine (needlessly, because she wouldn't feel its effects anyway), movies where the ending is sad or violent and all hope seems to disappear.

She starts with the exercises that Lucifer has assigned her. Changes of shape, every day. The first time, she only holds it for two minutes and thirty-four seconds before her bones scream of pain and she's forced to change back into a human. Now it's better – after a week, when it's almost time for the first presents, she can hold it for something like six hours. It still worries her, but it's a start. The dot of light hasn't gone. But Lucifer said that takes time, and so she's confident she must wait to see some results.

Obviously, it doesn't escape her that her transformations have started coming more easily only since she has started completely avoiding that stupid angel.

.:.

Christmas never fails to make him happy, but this year there's an empty space in his heart. No matter how hard he tries, he has lost something – or better, he misses _someone_.

No matter how many smiles he shares with his colleagues and overexcited students, no matter how many times he spreads kindness into the world: Regina has stopped talking to him, and after her last showdown, he has decided to let her be, not to bother her, and finally – finally – admit that it can't be.

Robin ignores the calls from Mary Margaret, because he knows what she wants. He ignores a text from Michael, who goes by David on this Earth, and ignores, essentially, all the contacts from his species. It's not healthy, what he's doing, but he can't help it.

There's a shadow in his eyes. And most importantly, there's a real, tangible, noticeable shadow on his wing.

He didn't notice it, at first. It hasn't been there, when he changed for Thanksgiving, when he has flown with Regina. He just woke up one day, and his right wing had started to become black at its root. He has frowned, watching himself in the mirror. He has no clue on what caused it.

(That's a lie. He knows exactly what caused it.)

.:.

Principal Hopper wants to participate to the Christmas fair.

It's… together with the elementary and middle school, really, but the Principal has high hopes, and he wants to bring a little of joy into the town. Stands and booths are being set up along the main street, and even inside some other minor streets. Teachers are asked for help. To supervise, or to bring something to sell, or just clean up afterwards. He signs up for the sweets stand, where he'll be – most likely – in the company of Granny Lucas, the lovely old lady who owns the most famous diner in town, and her niece, and probably a bunch of elementary-aged-sugar-hyped children who will sell to their parents the very same cakes said parents have made.

Wonderful.

He signs up between the firsts, so he doesn't have to know if Regina will take part to this.

The afternoon of the fair has him bringing out his best pair of gloves and hat, and strolling down Main Street to reach his stand. The fair is lovely, actually, a bunch of little luminaries hung all through the street, candles inside glass containers and shining golden balls.

He hasn't brought anything, but he quickly skims over the various offerings, and thinks he should come back tomorrow, on Christmas Eve, when he's off duty and he can actually purchase something. He's completely calm and almost serene, saying hello to Mrs. Lucas, so it comes as a surprise when he actually sees who's with Granny.

Regina is piercing him with those brown eyes, when she notices him coming. But the weird touch is, that she doesn't seem angry.

"Milady," he greets her, her scowl deepens slightly before she can school her features to something better.

"Hi," she replies, her hands sinking into her pockets. "You're on duty, too?"

"Apparently," he answers, rounds the stand until he reaches her on the bench where she's sitting. "I didn't think I'd find you here."

"Surprised?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," he says, wondering if there's enough room for him on the bench. Turns out that there is, so she shifts slightly on her left to let him sit. "Especially because I know, for sure, that you'd rather be anywhere else than to be stuck with me for… quite some time," he adds, checking his watch.

Regina doesn't reply, but stares ahead – where a little family of three is approaching their stand, the parents buying a piece of cake for their little daughter, and she looks at them for a long while as they walk away. Robin lazily thinks that maybe they should put some more effort into this selling thing, but it appears Mrs. Lucas is not fond of inexpert hands messing with her business (even if it's not technically hers) so he waits for Regina's answer, as if he has all the time in the world.

She just shrugs, and her head bows down as she burrows herself into her scarf. It's chilly, outside, and he notice she's traded her usual elegant coat for another one, warmer and more apt to spend some time in the open. "I guess I just… wanted to tell you I'm sorry," she murmurs, so low that if he weren't so close, he'd have missed it.

"Why would you be sorry?"

"Because – well, I really didn't need to treat you like _that_ to make my point, last time we spoke," she says, still refusing to meet his eyes and keeping hers glued to the nearest tray. "After all it's not your fault if… I mean…"

"I get it," he tells her. He really doesn't like her struggling with words, with apologies, because she sounds like they're ripping them off her throat with an incandescent pair of tweezers.

Silence falls again, as they watch Granny selling a good dozen of cookies. "They're almost over, miss Mills," the old lady tells Regina. "You really won this year."

He turns towards her, surprised. "You made the cookies?"

"Oh, sure she did," Granny says before Regina can even open her mouth. "And if you want one, I suggest you hurry."

Robin smiles, glancing at the tray where only three or four cookies are left, and says, _Do you mind?_

Regina rolls her eyes, answers _By all means_ , so he doesn't hesitate to grab one and tries it, an explosion of gooey chocolate in his mouth, as he closes his eyes to better focus on the wonderful taste.

"Oh wow," he says, looking at her amused expression. "Absolutely divine. My congrats. I may weep."

"Moron," she tells him, with all the affection she can put into an insult. "I don't play in the kitchen, I destroy every opponent."

"Noted," he groans around his cookie. "Not that I'll ever need to know," he adds, catching her cocked eyebrow.

.:.

He's an idiot.

She can't believe she's sitting next to a damn angel and letting him flirt and eat her cookies and she's not _killing him already_. She can almost _feel_ her mother screaming at her from the gates of Hell. It's just… it comes easy, talking to him. His smell usually puts her off. He's too good, too perfectly sickeningly sweet, so she holds her breath, but today… there's a glint of smoke, there, just an almost imperceptible shadow, but it's enough to make her feel better. She watches as Robin eats the cookie, trying to ignore the way he looks when he starts talking with one of the children.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket.

 _Excuse me_ , she murmurs, not that anyone cares, and turns slightly to read the text from Mal. _Need to see you. I thought we could spend Christmas together, maybe a spa? Let me know_ , it reads.

She stares at the phone for a long instant, before flopping it back inside her pocket. Not now. She turns to Arariel, and asks, "Do you want to take a break? Take a walk?"

She expected him to refuse, to tell her they can't, they're walking, but he nods, and looks at Granny as if he had to ask for permission. She catches his gaze and nods, says, "I've got it covered, you kids go and enjoy the fair."

And that's how she finds herself walking side by side with Robin Locksley – teacher, volunteer at the pet shelter center, certified angel, and – her enemy.

They walk in silence for quite a while. Regina sends lazy impulses to the humans who surround them, light waves of annoyance, so they actually give them space, the crowd mysteriously opening when they pass. And although she's using her malign powers – quite mildly, to be frank – Arariel doesn't seem bothered by it. He walks at her side, unscathed, his tranquil smile always on his lips, and Regina feels a little of her tension melt away.

"I need you to round the corner and go wait for me there, now, if you please," he says at some point, when they've covered nearly half of the street. She looks at him, but he only offers an enigmatic expression as he shrugs. "I know trusting me comes hard but… please? It's a harmless thing, I promise."

She looks at him for a moment longer before nodding, her best bored voice saying, _Fine then_ , and she follows his request and turns the corner around the back of the church. Her arms cross, her breath exits in short puffs as she exhales slowly, counting, and she reaches forty-two before he's with her again.

"I've been quick," he offers as an apology. "Are you cold?"

"I'm… almost never cold," she smiles. "Are you?"

"I could use some mulled wine," he answers. "I know where to find it, come on."

His hand is curled around hers before she can even react, and he starts walking straight ahead, and she doesn't realize what's happening until it happens.

And when it happens, it hurts like hell.

.:.

He's puzzled.

One minute he was holding Regina's hand, walking to the churchyard to get some wine from the nuns who distribute it to the cold wanderers – and the minute after she's left his hand and stopped a few steps from him, her face twisted in pain and her palm pressed on her heart. A low cry escapes her lips as she starts doubling down. He's at her side in a second, his own hand on her back, him frantically searching for the source of her pain.

"Regina?" he asks, rubs lightly her back because he doesn't know what else to do. "Are you okay? What's happening?"

She shakes her head, bites back a sob and then lifts her eyes to him – for a moment, just a second, they're completely black, pools of ink, before going back to her human chocolate brown. "Get me away from here," she says through her teeth. "Please."

He nods, doesn't waste a second as he asks, _Where?_

She doesn't answer but turns, snatches herself away from his hold and runs to the shadows of the nearest alley. Her hands are on her thighs, as if the effort a short jog required was herculean, and she collapses on a bench, taking her head between her hands.

Robin carefully sits next to her, afraid to speak, afraid to ask. Lets her breathe slowly, his hands itching with the need to touch her, to make sure she's fine, but he waits.

After a couple of minutes, she looks better – not fine, but better, she breathes more easily and leans back against the backrest of the bench.

"You alright?" he says, almost timidly, looks at her close eyes as she answers.

"You're a complete moron," she breathes out, without all the bite the sentence could have had. "What _on Earth_ – what _exactly_ – possessed you to _think_ – I could just… walk into consecrated ground."

His jaw drops.

She's still with her eyes closed, so she misses the swirling of emotion battling on his face – guilt, surprise, sadness and even a pang of affection for her, whom he only wishes to take into his arms and hold. He doesn't, and waits for her to look at him, and when she does, he has managed to school his face back to a solemn expression.

"I'm so sorry, Regina – I didn't…"

"…know? You didn't remember?" she ends, with the hint of a smirk on her lips. "I know you didn't." It's lower now, her voice, sounds sad, as she looks down at her still trembling hands. "It hurts – a lot. It's painful and I feel, still, like my very insides are being turned upside down. And… I should have told you, but you were walking so fast…"

"What happens?" he interrupts, as she looks up again, with bright eyes. "If you… enter a church."

A heartbeat, and she answers.

"I'd burn."


	7. VII

_A/N: guess who's back?_

 _(and I wanted to send an affectionate hug to all the lovely people who helped me get through this chapter. I couldn't have done it without your words and love.)_

 _happy new year! xX_

* * *

After the fair, he doesn't see Regina again. He's still shocked by what's almost happened near the church, and she didn't contact him in any way, so he thought she'd like to be left alone. They seem to dance this way since they met, really – a meaningful contact and then weeks of nothing.

She sends him a card with her Christmas wishes, and he appreciates it more than he could say. It's simple, black background and a silver pattern, her signature in an elegant handwriting and a distinct smell of roses when he opens the envelope. He types a text, then presses send and doesn't think much of it.

For Christmas Eve, he goes to the annual ball of his species, this year held inside an enormous ball room they've probably rented and filled with humans-repellent magic. Just wonderful.  
He isn't that enthusiast about seeing his companions again, because he's been avoiding them for the past few weeks, but still. So he goes. He goes and interacts and answers questions – where has he been? How is work going? And why, asks Gabriel lifting her brows, why has he not reported anything yet?

He tries to deflect the questions, tries to downplay, saying that he's been busy and nothing has happened in that department – that Christmas has, in fact, made his job easier, that everyone tends to be nicer and that it's easier not to give in to temptations. The humans have it ingrained in their minds since they were young that, around the end of December, they need to _behave_ and be _good_. Be _better_.

Robin avoids Gabriel and Michael, their leaders, the Guardians, also known as Mary Margaret and David; and he tries to stick with people he actually likes – there's not many, and he doesn't know everyone here, but he tries. Will, and John, Ana, Belle, are all his friends, and in the years they've all developed a sort of… touchiness about Gabriel's extremist tendencies.

Belle is the one who knows how to read him the best – they don't see each other often, as she lives in Australia, but he finds he can't possibly lie to her blue eyes.

"I just _know_ you've something to tell me," she whispers, as she drags him to a corner, the pair followed by Ana's curious eyes. "So, spill. Did you fall in love?"

He almost chokes on his eggnog.

"B-Belle," he slurs out, then coughs, her patient hand patting his back until he can breathe again. "That's not – no, how can you think something like that?"

"I know you liked a human once," she says, piercing him with her eyes. "And… before she passed…" she murmurs, and his heart still hurts as he thinks of Marian. "Well, you had the same kind of face."

"Why, what kind of face do I have exactly?"

"Hopeful? Like something opened up inside you? I don't know. But I can find out," she says, her face bright all of a sudden. "You know I'm in charge of our records. I can skim through your file and find out whom you're working with and if there's some nice, beautiful human who lives or works next to you and I can cross the data with their amount of good actions in the past year…" she stops, tilts her head. "Or maybe you fell for someone who _isn't_ good. Robin, you old scoundrel…"

"No, wait," he shakes his head, places his hand on her arm. "Please. I… we can't talk about this here. Are you free tomorrow?"

Belle raises an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms. "Robin, we're all going at Will and Ana's. You included. Will sent you the invitation weeks ago."

"Oh, yeah," Robin rubs his forehead, cursing himself for totally shutting out from the otherhuman world, even from his friends. "Sorry. Yeah, I'll see you there then. Now… see you tomorrow, Belle. I promise, I'll tell you everything."

He kisses her on the cheek and walks away before she can ever mutter a word, but honestly, he needs to buy himself time.

.:.

"So, little one," Mal says, the moment they enter the pool. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

Regina lowers herself into the water slowly, ignoring the question and getting acclimated with the new temperature. It's hot – to humans, it's probably too hot, but she finds she rather enjoys it, just the right amount of degrees for her to be completely happy.

This impromptu spa trip cost her and Mal quite a lot, but that's what they got for planning with such short notice. And that's how she finds herself here, for Christmas, and she supposes it's a better deal than being stuck with Mother and her sister – if only this trip were completely innocent, she'd be happier. But she's been caught, as she soon found out, and Mal hasn't stopped pestering her about her _issues_ since the minute she walked into her car.

"Can't we just enjoy Christmas in peace?" she complains, taking a few steps towards the middle of the pool. "Please, Mal, I don't know how to tell you that I'm fine."

"Bullshit," Mal says. "You know too well that you can talk to me, Regina. I don't know if your problems are… about your nature…" she needlessly whispers. "Or about something else, but I know there's a problem. He told me, you know."

"Samdi told you?" Regina turns, raises an eyebrow at her. "And why's that?"

Mal shrugs, but skims around the questions, says, "Because he knows we're friends and he was concerned about you, that's all. We _are_ friends, aren't we, Astaroth?"

Regina looks at her, but her eyes are bright, and she seems to be honest. Of course, you don't trust a devil, but… maybe… _maybe_ she is telling the truth.

"Yes," she breathes out. "We are."

"Then tell me," Mal pleads, taking her hand.

Regina blinks and looks away, watching as new guests of the spa enter the swimming pool. She takes a breath and shakes her head, tells her, "Later. I have to show you… and I can't, here."

.:.

When she wakes in the morning, she feels all groggy and a headache is splitting her skull open. The cause is easily found – as she gets up, empty bottles of the world's strongest vodka lay on the floor, on the carpet, there's one on the nightstand. Mal is nowhere to be seen.

Fuck her, honestly. How much did she make her drink?

A quick glance at the mirror, and she finds out a very much noticeable purple hickey on her neck. Gods. She really did a number, didn't she? And the worst thing is, she has absolutely next to no recollection of what she did – what she said, and what Mal knows.

There's a note, in the bathroom – right on the mirror, where Mal was sure she was going to see it. It's furiously scribbled on the hotel's emblazoned paper, and it says, _Regina, good morning! Sorry to dump you this way, but something came up and I need to get home. Enjoy the rest of the vacation and Merry Christmas, little one!_

She balls up the note, throwing it to a corner.

Fuck her.

.:.

On New Year's Eve, she hears someone knocking at her door.

She gets up fast – tosses the book she was reading on the sofa and places the glass of wine on the table – goes to open, with a frown, because she wasn't expecting anyone. Well, Mal, maybe, just to apologize for her behavior. (As if she'd ever.)

And… it's Robin.

He's cold – she sees it immediately, from his rosy cheeks to the way he's rubbing his gloved hands together, to the way puffs of breath exit his mouth.

" _What_ are you doing here?" she asks, the half-closed door between them.

"Regina. Can I please come in?"

She nods, because – maybe – maybe she can trust him – no matter who he is, she doesn't think any harm will come to her. When he's inside, he takes deep breaths, kicks off his snow boots and pads towards the fireplace, sighing out in relief when the warmth finally reaches his body.

"Thank the bloody gods," he lets out, his eyes closing. Regina just looks at him, her arms crossed, doesn't say anything, but waits.

And eventually, his eyes open again, and he meets her gaze. "Thank you, milady. I was just about to pass out from the cold."

"What are you talking about? You're a goddamn angel, you don't suffer the cold."

"Well, as a matter of fact, I – we do. I'm just good at hiding it," he says. "The heating broke down at my place. And I walked all the way here – I lent my car to Will last week, and…"

"Yes, I get it," she interrupts. "So what, you came for a bit of free heating? Maybe some champagne at midnight?" she storms in the room, goes to sit where she was before he knocked, and tosses him a blanket. "You can spare me your lies. _Tell me the truth_."

It comes out angry – angrier than she intended, with all the black and fire of hell, and he takes a step back.

"I came to see you, actually," he says, slightly more uncertain now that he's seen how his lies don't work. "I was… I was hoping to see if you're well."

"Well, you saw me," she hisses, crossing her arms again. "And I'm fine."

"Alright," he says, carefully. "Can you… can we just be civil, for once? Can you stop pretending you don't like me?"

"I don't like you," she almost spits. "I barely find you… tolerable."

"You're insufferable," Robin huffs. He relaxes his body back into the cushions, and she sees how he makes himself at home, as if he plans on staying way longer than she'll allow. As if he's been invited. "By the way, I brought you something," he adds, and rummages into his pocket – he's still wearing his jacket, and she – she _is_ wearing a black sweater and form-fitting sweatpants, but she suddenly feels very exposed.

He finally finds whatever he was looking for, and presents it to her with a smile. It's a white package – small, with a golden ribbon on it. "Got you a Christmas gift at the fair – remember when I told you I'd meet you in a moment, and to go ahead without me?"

She raises an eyebrow, surprised. "I do," she says, still cold, but she extends her hand to take it. "This is… unexpectedly sweet. Wait no, it's not unexpectedly sweet. It's exactly the kind of thing I'd expect from an angel. Forcing me to enjoy this godforsaken holiday…"

"Regina," he interrupts, unfazed. "Just open the damn box."

She stills, her hand on the ribbon, and looks at him – he's not smiling, but he looks nervous. She would never have thought he could speak like that – in a way that is not flirty or hopeful or excessively kind. But he did, so she sets on opening her gift, and finally reveals what's inside. It's a necklace – silvery, delicate, with a pendant – a black star, so little you can barely distinguish what it is from afar.

"This is…" her breath catches when she realizes what it is. "This is like my…"

"Your tattoo, yes," he says, a corner of his lips up to show that cocky smile. "A little souvenir of our first flight."

She finds she doesn't know what to say. So instead of talking, she unclasps it and lifts it to her neck, and then secures it close again, her chin bobbing down to see the little star. It actually stands out against the black of her sweater.

"You like it?"

"Yes," she says, the word escaping her before she can stop it. "You…" her gaze lifts, a wave of something painful dancing around in her veins. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," he says, easily. "I don't know what we are or what we'll become, but I know I will keep that memory forever. That was when life was still easy, and then –"

He stops.

Regina searches into his eyes, finds a sort of pain that has nothing to do with the pain torturing her heart, his pain is slower, quieter, and tormented.

"Then… what?"

"Nothing," he lies. "So… it's almost midnight. Care to have a drink?"

The easiness with which he changed the subject unsettles her, but she pays it no mind and murmurs, Sure, leaves him on the sofa as she goes to the fridge and unearths the champagne. They don't have much to celebrate, she thinks. Her hand curls around the marble countertop, her eyes losing focus for an instant, as the world becomes black and the ashes in her blood quiver.

.:.

He's anxious to approach the subject – the real reason he came here tonight, but he can't seem to grasp the right moment. He can only manage to piss her off. She sits next to him, this time, not so far it looks like they're a fighting couple, not so close it looks like they're desperately in love, but – just right – that he could pass an arm around her shoulders, if he wanted to, he could but he won't, because he knows better.

There is something he wants to talk about. And may the gods forgive him but he has lied to get here, he has told her he suffers the cold whereas he doesn't, how could he fly so high in the sky if he did? Where the air is rarefied and chilly?

But he sees it for what it is… a white lie to reach a grater purpose, so he guesses he's alright. For now. Until he'll drop the…

"Robin?"

He looks at her, and she has an amused frown, as if she caught him while he was distracted, her brows up, her smile tense.

"Were you even listening?"

"Sorry, love, no," he averts his eyes down, rubs his neck, embarrassed. "Thoughts in my mind. What were you saying?"

"I was asking if you like the champagne," she tells him, crossing her arms with her glass dangerously inclined.

"Yeah, I do, thanks."

"Now can you _please_ tell me what you are _really_ here for?" she says, her no-nonsense teacher's voice at full blast. "And don't you dare lie to me again. I'm a devil, remember? I know when someone is lying, and let me tell you, it doesn't suit you."

Robin looks at her now, almost feeling the heat she's oozing, her power and strength and he feels like she could crush him in an instant.

"Regina…" he starts, pleading, but she cocks an eyebrow, so he sighs. "You're right," he surrenders. "I lied. But… I wanted to see you, really. That part was true. And… most importantly, I wanted to know… will you go on a date with me?"


	8. VIII

_A/N: Hello! Did you miss me?_  
 _I hope you'll like this chapter, and... sorry for the wait ;)_

* * *

She's too stunned to answer.

Silence stretches between them, until Robin averts his gaze and starts looking at the fireplace. For a long moment, the sound of the fire is the only sound she can hear beside her thoughts.

And her thoughts are screaming.

There is one above all – one word, louder than the others, more painful.

 _Forbidden_.

She knows – and she's pretty sure he, too, knows – that what he's asking is forbidden. She has this glimpse of a thought, of going upstairs and retrieve from her attic the Book of the Word, but she won't. Instead, she simply stays there, as if she's waiting for someone to give her some kind of answer to a question she didn't ask.

"I…" he breaks the silence, her head snapping towards him, but he doesn't, still, meet her gaze. "I'm sorry, I… I misunderstood. I thought after the last time…"

"I know," she whispers, after a heartbeat, and finally he looks at her, seeming bewildered. "But you know we can't."

"I know we can't, I'm not as stupid as you think I am," he says, cutting, and maybe he has seen the flinch of surprise on her face, because he grimaces, then mollifies, "I'm sorry, Regina. I'm… pissed about this. I think of you since I've met you, and…"

"…and?" she gently encourages, with a murmur not to scare away his thoughts.

"And I wish we were normal humans. I wish… I mean. I wish we could go out and try and enjoy each other's company like normal people because the two times I've done that with you, I've loved it. I wish I weren't such a mess. And I wish we had a normal life – normal chances – and to take you to dinner and gift you flowers – but for real. That there weren't all these rules and constrictions and threats. I…"

He stops, all of a sudden, but she can tell that this last thought is paining him, just the thought of it. She thinks she has never seen him like this – as if the world has betrayed him somehow, as if he expected something else, something better.

"I don't know how to explain this to you," he says, isn't looking at her. Until, he does, turns and she finds she's trapped by those blue eyes. "Regina… will you come to the Elsewhere with me? Please. I need to show you something."

Her heart – her stupid, weak, fragile human heart stops for a second, because if being with him is forbidden, this is even worse. She doesn't even know if she can enter there. But wisdom has never been her strong suit, so she nods.

.:.

The Beyond, the Netherworld, the Elysium, the Limbo.

The Elsewhere has many names, all wrong and imprecise, but Robin does know how to get there, so he will lead the way this time. They need to arrive together, and it may be tricky, but as he takes her hand on that sofa, he's confident they'll do it.

"You need to relax and…"

"I'm familiar with the theory, Robin. I've just… never done it before."

"Right. Sorry," he winces. And he watches, as Regina settles herself better. He asks, "Are you okay? Comfortable?"

She nods, her eyes already closing, and he's struck with a mixture of worry and affection when he ponders on how she's trusting him so blindly. But he needs to focus. Right. _Get us there_ , she whispers. So he closes his eyes, and the travel begins.

It's always painful.

It rips out their soul, almost, pushing it to a in-between state, a pocket in the middle of the worlds. His eyes swirl under his eyelids as he focuses and pulls away from his human body and his soul flies, actually more tiring this time than all the other times, because today he's bringing the mighty Astaroth with him and – she's not easy to let into that suspended void.

It doesn't last long – the door shines of gold between the stars of their flight, his consciousness partially aware of his human shell that he left almost sleeping on Regina's couch, of their fingers softly intertwined – because he's holding her hand much more tightly now, while he leads their flight.

As they pass through the door, they tumble on the floor, smell of flowers and dirt filling his nostrils.

"Arariel," says a familiar voice above him. "Long time no see. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He wants to answer, feels Regina stirring next to him, but as he tries to open his eyes he feels a weight pushing on his chest. Something wet and sticky licks his face, and he laughs.

"Hello, buddy," he says, finally managing to sit up. He brushes away the remnants of the dog's spit from his face, and scratches him under his throat. A cough from upwards reminds him of their guest, so he lifts his face and greets, "Hello, Persephone."

"Hello yourself," she answers. "And you brought a friend." She looks down at them from her standing position, as he notices that both he and Regina are still lying on the floor.

Persephone calls the dog, who suddenly springs up and joins her. "I don't want to know what you're doing here, Arariel – if it's how I imagine, especially judging by the looks of your… lady-friend," she cocks an eyebrow, a quick glance at Regina – "you were hoping to come here undetected, but… sorry, you caught Cer and me during our afternoon walk. I'll pretend I did not see you, though," she adds, as a second thought. "See you in spring, dear. Come on darling, let's go!" she commands to the dog, as he barks excitedly at Robin and then follows her down a path.

"That… was weird," Regina says, speaking from the first time since they're here. As he turns to her, he notices how she looks uncomfortable – in the land of the gods, which is not holy but still feels like some place to be respected.

"Sorry," he tells her. "I didn't expect to see her. I… we can go back, if you'd rather."

"Nonsense, now we're here," she says, avoiding his eyes. She props herself up, standing gracefully before Robin has even had time to draw a breath. He observes her for an instant. It comes to his mind that this is the first time he's seeing her in her true shape – up close, that is, without having to squint through drops of salt and water pouring from the skies, and… she's beautiful, radiant, exudes power, her wings rustling in the soft wind of the Elsewhere.

"Well?"

Her voice shakes his distracted mind and he nods, suddenly remembering he has to lead her into this half-world.

.:.

It is weird, how peaceful she feels here.

The sky is blue and the fields are of an inky black, studded with scattered glowing lights, pulsing points of warm yellow that she knows are the souls of those who wait for the eternal peace.

(She wonders, briefly, if her father is here.)

But – Regina already loves this place.

Her eyes wander around, as she follows Robin down the same path where Persephone walked just some minutes ago – were they minutes? It feels like hours – his white and ivory wings bright of a translucent light, the veining all the more evident as he spreads them for a moment. She resist the temptation of taking his hand, because he is not hers to be with.

"Where are we going anyway?" she whispers. Whispering seems to be appropriate to this place – she feels it's the closest she'll ever get to entering a sacred place. Maybe.

"Not far," he says. "It'll be a moment. I want to show you my favorite place."

The walk seems to last for instants – or days, she doesn't know. And at some point, he takes her hand. She lets him – it's not that she's scared, she's not, absolutely, but maybe… being close to him, to his purity and goodness, that will help her. Will shield her from the sentient souls, their conscience just there, lulled into a timeless sleep.

At last, the scenery changes. The borderless field is always blue as ink, but now she can see a low hill, a tree above it – a weeping willow, its branches slowly moving for an invisible, imperceptible wind.

"It's just there," Robin murmurs, squeezing softly her hand. "Just atop the hill."

"But…"

"Regina, _please_." She lifts her eyes to meet his, and his expression looks pained. "Please trust me."

.:.

He desperately wants her to trust him. And she has, time and time again, just… this is more delicate than a walk around the town or a forbidden flight amidst of a storm.

"I…" a sigh exits her mouth, but she nods. "I don't know why, but I do. Trust you. It's probably stupid, every person I've trusted has let me down."

"It's… I think you're brave, if that's true." Robin remembers what he read about Astaroth in the Book of the Word. How they pulled her down from heaven and made a monster of her. "But I don't want to let you down. Although we might be natural enemies…"

"I _know_ ," she cuts. "Show me, now. I… I want to see it."

The climb to the top of the hill is slow but uneventful. The spirits don't come here – he doesn't know why but it's a place full of pain for him, and… the pain is still fresh, even if it's been years.

"What is this place?" Regina says, so low he almost doesn't hear it.

"This is… this is my secret. Or… my biggest regret." He leads her under the branches of the weeping willow. As he pushes the branches aside to let her pass, he almost feels the leaves caress his cheek. "This is the woman I loved and I was with, until a disease took her from me."

"But… I don't see a spirit here," Regina frowns, confused. "Or… you mean…"

"She… she _is_ the tree," he confirms, his heart constricting painfully into his chest. "She's not a spirit, because I took her here before she could die on Earth. We were at the hospital, and I was holding her hand… and I took her here. Azrael… Hades, however you want to call him, was not happy. But Hel… Persephone – and I, we are… friends, of sorts, so she let me leave my Marian here. She has the power on the innocent souls. And here she is – dead on Earth, but alive as the tree of the Elysium, where she breathes and gives fresh air. I didn't want her to die, Regina."

"Marian," she murmurs, her hand lifting to touch the tree's bark. "How…" she gulps, then meets his eyes. "How long ago?"

"Sixteen years," he whispers. "But that's not all."

She looks at him now, and good gods, she's so beautiful, and they've never been so open with each other, and he feels like he's on the edge of a precipice. Still, he takes a breath, and tells her.

"You know how male angels and devils are not supposed to have children."

There's silence, Regina waiting for him to go on.

"Marian gave birth before… passing. And she… I don't…" He sighs. "We used to sleep together, but we were always so careful. And I knew she was seeing other people, and… I was alright with that, so we always assumed the baby was someone else's, you know? But now I wonder… what if he's mine, Regina? I've never checked, never investigated, and I watched over him as a good guardian angel should do, but… what if I broke the rules, unknowingly, and I left my son alone for sixteen years? Left another family to care for him? I was a coward."

She takes his hand, their fingers weaving together. "Robin… who is he? The kid?"

"Roland Carroll."

.:.

She's stunned.

Too stunned to answer quickly. But he lets her, he waits, averts his gaze to the tree.

Roland Carroll.

It's one of their students – one of the students they have in common, that is, a bright kid, with whom she _maybe_ has been too cruel from time to time. And she didn't know – well of course he doesn't look like his father or his sister, Jefferson and Grace, but she always assumed it was because of his mother, and… it is. And Roland may be Robin's son, and –

And she suddenly sees why he brought her here.

Even though she said she trusts him, he _knows_ how little she actually does – or, he _thinks_ he knows – because as of late, she _may_ be trusting him more than anyone else – but he doesn't need to know this.

Something that is entirely true: the fact that he's entrusting her with his most important secret. Asking for her help? Maybe. But the significance of the moment is not lost on her. That they may be doing something forbidden, but… he already has a secret that, potentially, could ruin him, and – he really wants to risk, with her.

She could sentence him to death – with just a call to the right people.

And yes, Persephone knows of Marian, but the gods don't really think about the children of angels and devils. Aside from when they established the rule – they may care, though, if she decides to use this information. Rules are rules, and the gods love their authority.

He's giving her a choice, she realizes. Either she tells them, removes herself from this dangerous situation and whatever may be almost starting with him… or she keeps the secret – because she knows Roland _is_ his son, it's evident, and would Robin have watched over him if Roland wasn't his? He would have – but without this nagging guilt, this…

Without coming to work at the school where Roland is.

Or maybe, he didn't know he was there. Maybe he was surprised. Maybe he tried to stop thinking about his son, and found him there…

"Regina," his voice calls, shaking her from her delirious thoughts. She looks at him, sees a shadow of fear in his eyes before he gets his usual calm demeanor back. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, sorry," she immediately answers. "It's just… a lot to take in."

"I wanted to tell you since Halloween, when…" he trails off, but she knows. When she showed him her veins of an oily black and then ran away not to explain anything.

"Thanks for telling me."

When he squeezes her hand, she realizes they never stopped holding each other.

"Let's go back," he murmurs. One last glance at Marian's tree, and she nods, letting him pull her into that limbo of stardust and inky skies, as they fly back to their bodies.

.:.

When he opens his eyes, Regina is looking at him.

How she got there before him, he doesn't know. He only knows she's so close, her eyes bright, the speckles of gold in her irises slowly fading to their usual brown.

"I thought you stayed behind."

He blinks, and how is she so close? He can feel her – her perfume, that combination of essences that told him there was a devil nearby, when they met. That day seems so far, far away in time, so many things happened since then. He feels dizzy. Her hand is on his shoulder now – he's vaguely aware of the fire cackling, of the absolute silence in the room. He can almost hear the snow falling.

Her words surprise him.

"I… I want to give this a try, Robin."

And yet, he can't help it, smiles at her, as he feels the world spinning and then stopping again.

(He thinks that if she's going to kiss him now, he won't complain.)

… But instead, Regina smiles back, deviously, pushing against his shoulder and she gets up, up and away from the couch where he's still sitting. She stands, crosses her arms.

"So, it looks like we're having a date, Mr Locksley. We are doing this very forbidden thing together and lying to our friends and possibly sending our whole lives to hell. I do hope it's worth it."

Gods, does he want to find out.

He bites his lip, bearing the strength of her gaze, and answers.

"Pick a time and place."


End file.
